


Behind These Castle Walls

by GilgaNyan (NarryEm)



Series: History Makers!!! on ICE [27]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime), カーストヘヴン | Caste Heaven
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Drama, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/F, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Psychological Drama, brief heterosexual scene, i am tempted to say lotsa wangst too, tiny bit of action, tw? scenes of people throwing up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-09-09 11:02:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8888368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NarryEm/pseuds/GilgaNyan
Summary: No one knows how this started.  All they know is that you play to win and to trample those who fall beneath you.What wIll happen when an innocent nobody becomes the King?  What will happen when the delinquent sets out to seduce him?





	1. if I should fall, would anyone hear me screaming

**Author's Note:**

> title from "Castle Walls" by T.I ft. Christina Aguilera
> 
> Violence warning is for later parts
> 
> Read the _Caste Heaven_ manga to get a proper feel for it. I made up a few rules to cover what they haven’t covered in the manga so far.
> 
> This is set in a school in Canada for convenience.  readujsted age for the sake of the story is as follows. Grade twelves: Viktor, Yuuri, Georgi, JJ, Chris, Seung-gil. Grade elevens: Phichit, Sara, Mickey. Grade tens: Otabek, Mila. Grade nines: Leo, Emil. Grade eights: Guang-Hong, Minami, Yurio  
>  
> 
> a [rough sketch](http://simply-emily24.tumblr.com/post/154656814555/teenage-viktor-in-my-caste-heaven-au-cant-do-a) of what Viktor looks like in this AU

 

Viktor sighs, blowing a stray strand of hair out of his eye as he stares out the window.  If he were to be the protagonist of a movie, he supposes that he fits the bill as his seat in his classroom is right next to the window.

The teacher is droning on and on in French about the French Revolution.  The chick in the seat diagonally in front of him is checking Facebook on her mobile, and the loser sat next to him is dozing off.  It’s a typical day in school, alright. 

The guy behind him taps him on the shoulder.  When Viktor turns around, a piece of folded paper is passed to him.  On the top part of it is a simple doodle of an outline of a spade.

“Game on,” Viktor murmurs to himself.  He passes it to the guy in front of him.

Maybe things won’t be terribly boring after all.

 

 

-

 

 

~~(warning for brief het scene)~~

 

“Ah, right there,” the chick moans, her voice super fake.  Honestly, the harder Victor tries to keep it up, the softer he gets.  Her huge, bouncy tits are nice to look at but it ain’t getting the job done.  This was not worth skipping out on maths, especially when his grades are borderline failing.

“Get off me,” he hisses.  The girl blinks like the bimbo she is.

“Wait, what?”

Viktor sighs.  “I said: get off me.  Your fake ass voice killed the mood.  This isn’t some cheap porno.  Get lost.”

The girl covers her chest.  She shrugs on her t-shirt as she runs out hurling insults at Viktor.

Girls are complicated.  Sex is good, but Viktor could never put up with them long enough to date them properly.  They want affection and emotional intimacy, neither of which Viktor can spare.  It is more accurate to say that he has never known either of those in his life.

Boys, on the other hand, are laughably easy.  The number one priority is how much sexual pleasure they can wring out of one another.  Things like ‘love’ and ‘commitment’ are a luxury that they don’t even seek.  They don’t care about how Viktor treats them as long as no harm is done and they get to come with a cock in their asses.

Viktor ties up his hair again and scrolls through his contacts list on his mobile.   No one on it are likely come to an empty classroom in the middle of a lesson.  Where’s the fun in life without risk?  Well, these losers seem to think that they don’t need some thrill in their lives.  He hates his parents for sending him off to a prep school on the VancouverIsland _“for his own good”_ after his little stunt that may or may not have involved a drunken booty call gone wrong.

He growls at his mobile screen as he locks it and chucks it into his bag.  School is just an obligatory prison that the society forces onto the young minds.  Whilst he knows fully well that he can get into a decent college with an athletic scholarship, he has no desire to spend four more years stuck in an oppressive system for the sake of ‘ _higher_ _education’._

Someone knocks softly against the locked door of the classroom, the sound barely audible even in the silence.  Viktor does not even bother pulling on his jeans before he goes out to greet his guest.

“What?” he snarls.

The intruder is not bad looking but not pretty either, if Viktor is being brutally honest.  He has a roundish face hidden behind glasses and bangs, his black hair cut in a boring style, and his fashion sense could use a makeover.

“S-s-s-sorry,” the boy stutters.  Aww, he is scared. How adorable.  

Viktor smirks as he bends down and tilts the boy’s head up and looks into his dull brown eyes.  The boys flinches, trying to break away from Viktor’s grasp.  He is clutching a few textbooks to his chest, notebooks piled on top of them.

“A good little school boy, ain’t ya?” Viktor drawls.  “What brings you to this humble abode?”

“I w-was looking for a quiet place to study for my free hour,” the boy answers earnestly.  “And I saw the girl run out of here in t-t-tears, so. . .”

“Ah,” Viktor snaps his fingers.  “So you thought to play the white knight and check out who the baddie was that made the cute girl cry?”

Four-Eyes’ gaze drops.  His cheeks turn a bright red when he notices Viktor’s state of dress—or, lack thereof. 

Viktor laughs.  “What?  Never saw people fuck on the school grounds?  I assure you, it’s quite the common practice here.”

“W-who-who comes to school and waste t-time by having s-s-s-sex?” the boy stutters.

Viktor cocks his head, licking his lips.  This innocent, _pure_ boy looks like he will be quite the delicious mouthful.

“You.  What’s your name?” he purrs.

“Y-Yuuri.  Yuuri Katsuki,” he mumbles.

“Yuura,” the nickname rolls off Viktor’s tongue like honey.  “I’ll see you around.”

He dips his head and nips Yuuri on the lips before the poor boy even has a chance to react.  Viktor is already halfway down the hall by the time Yuuri snaps out of it.

“Yuuri Katsuki,” Viktor mutters.  He couldn’t have been of a high rank, not with his timid, quiet appearance.  The book worms never did like the Caste Game that some sick fucks invented years ago.  They were usually content with the Prep cards or anything that wasn’t the Joker.  Rules stated that those who opted out of the game were automatically deemed to be the Targets, and no one in their right mind would choose to be hounded by hormone-addled, vicious teenagers.

Viktor sighs as he takes his card out of his back pocket.  Which reminds him, he should probably put his clothes back on properly before a teacher catches him and nags him halfway to death for the second time this month.

He has always been _‘lucky’_ enough to find cards with the rank of Jack or higher, granting him immunity from the mob’s revolt.  In the five years that he attended this school, there has not been anyone who could refuse him when he asked the nicely to find him the higher ranking cards.  He knew that he was not the only one who used this backhanded method.  But he was one of the few who could back up his ways with the necessary violence and brute force.

“I really wanna go home and nap,” Viktor mutters, pouting.  However, if the last five years taught him anything, it’s that the new Caste Game always begins at the start of the lunch hour of the day that the signal is passed around.  The cycle differs from class to class, divided by the homerooms.  He wonders who he can use this time to claim his rightful victory.   There is a group of Wannabes who are always willing to wag their tails for him.

He smirks.  Whatever.  He shouldn’t waste his energy strategizing too much.  It doesn’t matter which route he takes; he always gets what he wants.

 

That said, lunch hour could not come fast enough.  He pretends to go to his classes for the remainder of his morning classes.  He doesn’t run into that glasses guy again so he can safely assume that Yuuri is in a lower grade.  Or maybe Viktor has always missed him in homeroom since Viktor never pays attention to the losers around him.

At the start of the lunch hour, the Game Makers show up with a paper bag over their heads.

“The rules are simple” one of them sneers.  “Find the cards.  Only one card is allowed per person.  You can obtain the cards using whatever methods you think is suitable.  If you return without a card, there will be hell to pay.  May the odds be in your favour.”

Viktor rolls his eyes as a few eager classmates rush out the door.  As if being in a hurry can bring them closer to the King card.  He is, though, rather pleased to find Yuuri in the corner of the back row.  Fear is written all over his face and a big part of Viktor wants to go up to him and taunt him.  As it stands, he does need to stake his claim on higher ranking cards before other do, so maybe another time.

He is starting to get annoyed when it is halfway into the lunch hour and he has not found a single card.  No, that’s a lie.  He found a Seven and a Four, but he doesn’t want a lowly Messenger or Goth card.  It has got to be Jack or higher.  He has been the King a handful of times before and god, he misses that.  It was so much easier to get some ass when he was King and everyone wanted a piece of him.

“Fuck this shit,” Viktor growls, kicking at the hand rails on a staircase.  A few people who were walking down it next to him glare at him, to which he responds with his middle finger.  Weak thoughts are trickling into his head, such as how he should have kept the Seven for as a back-up.

“No way,” he scolds himself.  There is no way that he will abandon his strategy after all these years.

Just as he thinks that, someone shoves him down the stairs.  Granted, he is only halfway up the flight, but the damage is done.  He tumbles down the steps and the last thing he sees before his consciousness gives out is a blond head surrounded by two others.

 

 

-

 

 

“Fuckin’ hell,” is the first thing that comes out of Viktor’s mouth when he comes around.  Yuri snorts.  That’s to be expected from the five-time King.  If Yuri’s informants were correct, whenever Viktor was not King, he held the title of Queen, Jack, or Ace.  His ranks never dropped below that.

“Morning, sunshine,” Yuri says in the most angelic voice he can muster.  “Sorry if I pushed you too hard.  I wanted to make sure that you would conk out but I reassure you, I never meant to kill you.”

Viktor whips his head around.  Like that will do anything against the thick, black cloth tied around his eyes.  “Who the fuck are you?”

“Yuri Plisetsky.  I would say pleasure meeting you but I think that’s rubbing in too thick.”

“Yuri, are you sure we should be doing this?” Mila asks, nudging him.  “If they find out that a mere grade eight is interfering with the twelve's game. . .”

“Shut up, hag,” Yuri snaps.  “As if the old geezers want to see this bastard reign as a Royal again."

“Yeah, think about me for once.  I don’t want to go another twenty weeks with this jackass as a Royal,” Georgi chimes in.

Mila sighs.  “Fine.  As long as this doesn’t trace back to us.  We’re not actually going to rough him up, right?”

Yuri rolls his eyes.  “We already have him tied down with sixteen minutes left on the clock.  We got the Joker card so as long as he doesn’t escape within the next sixteen—fifteen and a half—minutes, our plan still holds.”

Viktor turns his face towards them blindly.  “Joker?  You’re shitting me.”

“I shit you not, Your Highness,” Yuri mocks.  He walks up to Viktor and forces his head up.  Ensuring that the ropes are wound around Viktor’s wrists and ankles tightly, Yuuri undoes the blindfold.  That look of fury.  It makes Yuri happier than anything else in the world.  “Your reign is over, Nikiforov.  You seriously thought that you could rule the school until you graduated?  Moron. Nothing lasts forever, especially things that are begotten through a flimsy game like this.  As soon as you return as the new Joker, all of your admirers will turn on you.  No one in your class will pity you either.  Maybe you should have been a nicer king.”

Viktor glares at him.  Yuri jumps out of the way in the nick of time as Viktor spits at him.  

“Are you scared now?” Yuri gloats.  “In fourteen minutes, the world as you know it will change.  It will crumble and fall beneath your feet until you are standing in the pitch-black abyss.  How does that feel?”

“I feel like you would have done poorly in the poetry section of your English class,” Viktor retorts.  Mila snickers behind them and Yuri can hear Georgi doing his best to hold in his laughter.

“Who needs that shit when you’ve got money?” Yuri growls.  He takes the Joker card out of his hoodie pocket and throws it into Viktor’s lap.  “You should take it.  We all know what happens to the poor losers who refuse to participate.”

For a split second, Yuri can see fear enter Viktor’s cyan blue eyes.   “Just because I’m the Joker doesn’t mean that I will let the others bully me easily.  I won’t go down without a fight.”

Yuri smirks.  “Oh, trust me.  I know.  That’s why I invited some of our friends.”

Mila shakes her head but opens the storage shed door nonetheless.  Five guys from the rugby team, all in Viktor’s homeroom, walk inside.  Viktor snorts.

“That’s your big threat?  Some muscle heads are going to beat me up?  Go ahead, do it.  I can just tip off the principal and their asses will be suspended, or worse, expelled.  And there are many other ways that I can get back at them outside of the school.”

“Who said anything about beating the snot out of you?” Yuri remarks.  He steps aside to let the stupidly bulky guys squeeze into the storage shed.  “Although, I gotta admit that the idea is appealing.  But alas, that is not today’s goal.  Maybe next time though.  By the way, don’t forget to smile for the camera, Viktor.”

That look.  The look of utter betrayal and horror in Nikiforov’s eyes as the rugby dudes start to unbuckle their jeans is priceless.  Yuri will never forget that face even if he lives to be an immortal.

“Are you sure he won’t snitch on us?” Mila whispers as they jog to their classrooms. 

“He won’t,” Yuri sneers.  “Guys like him have way too much pride to let others know that a bunch of brainless jocks violated him.  I bet he’s never bottomed with his boy toys in the past.”

“And you’re sure that you aren’t just spiteful because senpai never noticed you?” Mila smirks.

“Shut up, hag.  I was never one of his groupies,” Yuri hisses.

“Then why do you have this vendetta against him?” Georgi asks.

“No reason.  I don’t like him like ninety percent of this school.  I’m sure dishing out what I think is long overdue justice.  Is there a problem with that?”

Georgi shrugs.  “Not particularly.  Promise me that you won’t bring up my name if Nikiforov tells on us.  He only knows your name, right?”

Yuri nods.  “You have my word.”

“Same goes for me,” Mila chimes in.  “You’re a shitty friend to drag us into this.”

“When have I ever been a decent friend?” Yuri counters.

“Once in a blue moon,” Mila replies.  “Remember last year on my birthday?  You were so sweet to me.”

“It was your fucking birthday.  That doesn’t count.”

Mila smirks, poking Yuri’s cheeks.  “Whatever helps your sleep at night.  Shit, I have gym next!  We’re supposed to play softball outside and it looks like it’ll rain.”

“At least you’re good at softball,” Georgi mutters.

“I heard that!” Mila flips Georgi the bird.  “Do not tie me into the stereotype, Georgi, or I swear that I will pulverise your balls.”

“Are you sure that you don’t fit into the stereotypes?” Yuri jokes.  “You do seem to be a manhater half the time.”

“Am not!” Mila huffs.  “I happen to have a low tolerance for chauvinistic pigs who think they know everything after watching a few Buzzfeed videos!”

“You’re gonna be late,” Georgi reminds her.

“Shit.  Bye, losers.  See you never.”

Yuri smirks.  Mila can be a handful, but she is a reliable friend to have.  Same goes for Georgi, but sometimes he can be too nice of a guy.

Whatever.  He achieved his goal of humiliating Nikiforov.  All that is left is for him to retrieve the camera after this hour and check up on the bastard.  It’s all going according to his plan.

Now, all that is left for him to do is find the King card when it is his class’s turn for a new cycle.

 

 

-

 

 

“Crap, crap, crap,” Yuuri chants.  He has ten minutes until the end of the lunch hour and he has not seen a single card.  At this rate, he would even take the Joker!  Actually, scratch that.  He is not that desperate.  Yet.  He is usually lucky enough to find a decent card but there was that one time when he could only find a Joker.  As the Target, he was continuously harassed.  Thanks to his quiet personality, no one was too cruel to him.  The worst that happened was when someone hid his clothes after gym and he was forced to wear a pair of sweat pants and hoodie from the Lost and Found in the P.E. office.  He smelled rank for the rest of the day but he still had the decency to wash them before returning them to the P.E. office.

Lost in his thoughts, Yuuri fails to see a fallen broom and trips right over it.  “Ow, ow oww,” Yuuri rubs at his knee.  Oh, no.  He is wearing his favourite pair of jeans and managed to tear a hole in both knees.  The sight of blood seeping through the fabric makes his stomach churn.  There is something on the floor in the same line of his view and at first, Yuuri doubts his eyes.

“Huh?”

In front of him is a card.  A King card.  No way.  This kind of scenario only happens in the movies.  He quickly scans his surroundings to ensure that his classmates are not playing a cruel trick on him.  There is no one in sight.  If Yuuri can go back to his classroom in time, he will be able to live the next twenty weeks in peace knowing that nobody can touch him.

He checks his wrist watch.  He has four minutes until the game is over.  He clutches the card in his hand and sprints down the hallway.  It’s a miracle that he doesn’t trip again.  When he is at the door, he proudly presents the card to the Game Maker.

“Confirmed.  Yuuri Katsuki, as of now, you are the King.  Congratulations, Your Majesty.”

“Th-thanks,” Yuuri murmurs.

As soon as the vultures in his classroom hear the announcement, their eyes lock onto Yuuri.  Yuuri flinches out of reflex.  The eyes that used to mock him and terrorise him are now full to the brim with false adoration and friendliness.

“Wow, Yuuri, congrats!” a girl with glasses and short brown hair greets.  She walks up to him and links her arm with Yuuri’s without any hesitation.  If memory serves, she was often the ringleader whenever the girls felt like bullying some weak soul.

“Yeah, it’s like, totally great that you are King,” another girl chimes in, her valley girl accent grating against Yuuri’s ears like jagged rocks.

“You’ll be much better than JJ at this,” a third girl joins in.

“JJ?” Yuuri echoes.

“You know, that guy from Québec.  That lucky fucker.  He has been finding the King card for the last two cycles.  I hope that he doesn’t get one this time.”

As if on cue, it’s none other than JJ himself who walks through the door next.  Much to the girls’ disbelief, he returns triumphantly with the Queen in his hands.

“So _you_ are the King this time around,” JJ confirms, leering at Yuuri.

“Y-yes?” Darn it.  Why did it come out like a question?

“Cute.  You are not used to this, are ya?” JJ sneers.  “Just don’t try to embarrass the former Kings.  If you do, well, no one said that the King is absolute.”

Yuuri is spared from JJ as Viktor Nikiforov, the school’s renowned play boy, returns.  He is looking rather worse for wear, his long silver hair a mess and his clothes are all dishevelled.  Actually, it looks like his t-shirt was slashed and his jeans aren’t buttoned up.

“Confirmed.  Viktor Nikiforov, starting now, you are the Joker.  You are the last of your classmates to return.  All twenty-six of you have come back with a card.  These are the rankings for this cycle.  Enjoy.”

One of the committee members draws out a pyramid.  At the very top is Yuuri Katsuki, and Yuuri still can’t believe his eyes.  Everyone’s eyes turn towards him and Yuuri does his best not to cower.  At the very bottom is Viktor Nikiforov with the label _‘Target’_.  Once again, everyone’s eyes turn towards Viktor, who does not seem to care at all. 

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” one of the guys sneers.  Yuuri is pretty sure that the guy is on the rugby team.

Viktor slams his hands down on the desk as he stands up.  “You fucker.  You know damn well why I ended up this way.  What did Yuri promise you?  Did he suck your micropenis or something to call in a favour?  Hah?”

The rugby guy slams his own hand on the desk.  “I think _you_ know damn well that my cock isn’t small at all, pretty boy.”

Viktor’s face consorts with fury for a brief moment.  He slaps the other guy’s hand off his desk, laughing.  “I could hardly feel anything, Robby.  If that’s not the definition of a micropenis, I don’t know what is.”

The other students look visibly worried. Several of them, in fact, are throwing Yuuri weird looks.

JJ perches on the edge of Yuuri’s desk.  “Have you forgotten already?  You are the _King_ , Katsuki.  You can literally order any of us to do your bidding.  Tell them to stop their childish antics and they will have to.  Them’s the rules, _votre majesté_.”

Yuuri stares down at his pencil case on the corner of the desk.  He is surrounded by smiling faces that were sneering and contemptuous not even a full hour ago.  It’s sickening.  It’s revolting.  It makes him want to throw up.

“Stop it,” Yuuri mumbles.  Of course, Viktor and the jock head can’t hear him.  Yuuri digs his fingertips into his palm.  “I said: STOP IT!”

It comes out more or less as a shriek but it gets the job done.  The rugby jock looks like he wants to punch Yuuri’s face in but he holds himself back.  Viktor wolf-whistles, clearly impressed.

“Well done, Yuura,” Viktor smirks.

As Viktor sits back down in his seat, the bell signifying the end of the lunch hour rings.  Yuuri clamps his hand over his mouth and dashes out of the classroom.  His next class is physics but he knows that he won’t make it.  He sprints into the nearest bathroom and locks himself into a stall.

He clutches at the edges of the toilet bowl as he throws up everything he has eaten today.  The sour and bitter after taste lingers in Yuuri’s mouth as he stays on his knees.

His classmates.  The way they were looking at him as though they had not spent the last few months bullying him at every chance they got . . . recalling their faces makes Yuuri throw up again.

“Dis-disgusting,” Yuuri mutters.  He wipes at his mouth and flushes the toilet.  Hopefully, no one else was in the bathroom to witness this.  Even if there were, he supposes that he can use his new power as King to order them to forget it.

“They really are, aren’t they?” a familiar voice croons from above Yuuri.

Yuuri’s head snaps up.  Of course, it had to be Viktor Nikiforov who saw the whole thing.  He must be standing on the toilet to loom over the stall wall.

“They will happily wag their tails at their King but the moment that the King is denounced, they raise their claws against the new Target.  They will happily move on to the new King without looking back.  It’s a vicious, never-ending cycle.”

Viktor hops down.  The door creaks as Viktor walks out.  With a trembling hand, Yuuri unlocks the stall lock and lets Viktor in.  He doesn’t know why he did, though.

“My poor, innocent, cowardly King,” Viktor coos.  He hugs Yuuri and presses Yuuri’s face into his shoulder.  “Only if you could trust someone in our wretched classroom.”

“Are you . . . are you suggesting that I should trust you?” Yuuri murmurs.

Yuuri pushes himself out of Viktor’s arms.  The corner of Viktor’s mouth twists up into a smile.  “Little ol’ me?  It depends on what you want out of me.  Do you want a trustworthy ally or someone who can do your dirty work?”

“I. . . I don’t get what you’re trying to say.”

Viktor sighs.  He grabs Yuuri‘s chin and forces him to look up.  He lowers his head until their lips are mere millimetres apart.  “Do you want a kind, caring lover or someone who can give you what you need no matter what the cost is?”

Yuuri feels his cheeks burn up.  “I sti-still don’t understand.  Why me?”

“You _are_ the King,” Viktor deadpans.  “Well, you are rather pathetic and timid for a King but you have time to grow into your crown.  All you need is someone you can kinda trust to carry out your orders.  You were disgusted by the way everyone treated you, right?  It’s sickening that they can smile at you like that after they have trampled you.”

Viktor slides his hand to the back of Yuuri’s head and tangles his fingers into his hair.  “This time, you won’t be the meek pawn on someone else’s game. _I_ can be _your_ pawn and we can fight back against those bastards.  You can make the rules.  You finally have the power to fight back.”

He shifts his gaze downwards before he wedges his thigh between Yuuri’s legs.  A spark of pain but also undeniable pleasure shoots up from the contact. He bites down on his tembling lip but a moan still manages to slip out of his mouth. 

“I think I like you,” Viktor purrs, his lips brushing along the tip of Yuuri’s ear.  Yuuri gulps as he hears Viktor's next words: “You are different from the other people who have thrown themselves at me.  I can teach you so much, Yuura.  If you can become stronger, the world will fall at your feet.  I will make that happen.”

Viktor pulls away, putting a foot of space in between them.  He holds his hand out.  “What will you do now?  Will you pick up the wild card and use it or stick to your old deck?”

 

 

-

 

 

“Hey, hey, hey, Seung-gil!”

JJ puts his best friendly face on as Seung-gil turns around, visibly annoyed that JJ has sought him out again. 

‘What now?” he asks.

“Can’t I just say hello to a classmate?”

“We were classmates last year in one class for half a term before you dropped it.  We don’t share any classes currently,” Seung-gil points out.

“You are so cold~” JJ drawls, slinging his arm around Seung-gil‘s shoulders.

“Don’t touch me,” Seung-gil slaps JJ‘s arm away.  “Shouldn’t you be doting on your girlfriend instead?”

JJ waves his hand dismissively. With his other hand, he squeezes Seung-gil‘s tight little ass.  “I don’t care.  She is starting to bore me.”

“섹스에 환장하는 발정난 개새끼 같은게,” Seung-gil mutters.

JJ has zero knowledge about Korean, but he is pretty damn sure that he was just insulted.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I quite caught that.”

 _“Tu es un cochon avec d'ingérables désirs hormonaux"_ _,”_ Seung-gil spits out.

Oh.  JJ did not expect that from Seung-gil.  But then again, he is the top student in their grade who is beloved by every teacher in school and expected to be the valedictorian.  Also, they _do_ live in Canada.

‘That’s mean, Seung-gil.  Why are you so cold to me?”

“Because I’m disgusted by the way you treat people,” Seung-gil sighs and turns back around.  “I know that all you want from your fuck buddies is cheap thrill.  I will not be one of those.”

JJ whistles as he watches Seung-gil walk away. The bell rings, signaling the end of the school day.  If JJ is not mistaken, Seung-gil is the current Jack in his homeroom.  A Jack and a Queen usually don’t get along but in this case, JJ is willing to make an exception.

And what a tasty, satisfactory exception it shall be.


	2. in purrs under the palms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from “Toes” by Glass Animals.
> 
> this is all over the place and quite shorter. but I will make up for it in the next chapter with smexy scenes ;)

 

Yuri yawns.  His gramps has asked him to go pick up groceries  _ after  _ school (he put so much emphasis on the word after since he knows that Yuri has a habit of skipping afternoon classes) but he would much rather go down to the Willow’s Beach with his friends.  He closes his eyes. He could use a nap before he meets up with his friends.  Or go to Fairway, whichever he feels like doing in an hour’s time.

Initially, he protested with all his heart when Gramps announced that they would be moving from Kelowna to Victoria to enjoy his retired life.  He loved snowboarding down the hills at the Big White and the proper snow-filled winters.  Now he had to deal with lukewarm winters that almost never dropped below zero.

He checks his phone to see if Mila texted him.  No such luck.  Fine.  The bitch can deal with Georgi’s whining over his latest heartbreak all by herself then.

Yuri frowns as a shadow is cast over him. He opens his eyes and puts on his best death glare.

"Who the fuck are you and why are you up here?"

The other boy shrugs, taking off his leather jacket in the same motion as well. He has deep brown eyes that are hard to read and cropped black hair that adds to his edgy, rocker-esque appearance.

"I could ask the same of you," the boy retorts.  "As far as I know the rooftop is off limits to all students."

Yuri flashes what Mila has dubbed his ‘feral’ grin.   "I have my ways.  I guess same applies to you."

The other boy cracks a grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his eyes sparkling in the afternoon sun.  "Name's Otabek.  I've seen you around, Yuri Plisetsky.  You are quite notorious in this part of the town."

Yuri returns a non-menacing grin of his own. "Let's hope you won't have to find out why."

"That is the very last thing I want, you can bet on it," Otabek assures him.  "I've heard things but I have also seen what you do.  You are not as bad as the rumours make you out to be, Yuri."

“Huh?” Yuri blurts out. “You pickin’ a fight with me?”

“That is the very last thing on my list of to-do list.  It’s the opposite that I want, actually.  I want us to be friends.”

“Huh?” Yuri blurts out.

Otabek sighs.  “I guess you don’t remember five years ago.  It was a summer camp for some type of dance and you were the star of it.  I admired you, Yuri.  And I was so happy to meet you again as if drawn together by fate.”

Yuri can recall some details about that camp.  If memory serves, it was the last ballet summer camp thing that he attended before he quit it for good.  Truth be told, he used to enjoy ballet until the boys in his class started to tease him for it.  He’d already get enough shit as is for his ‘girly’ appearance but apparently liking ballet was adding insult to injury.

Yuri bursts out laughing.  He can’t imagine Otabek doing ballet for the life of him.

“For your information, the camp wasn’t just for ballet dancers.  I was there for the swing dance camp.”

Now Yuri has a rather suave image of Otabek in a 1920’s era get-up, complete with a fedora and charming smile.  

“I wouldn’t mind it if you showed me a move or two,” Yuri jokes.

Otabek arches an eyebrow.  “It would be my honour.”

Before Yuri has had a chance to retract his words, both he and Otabek are on their feet.  Yuri’s cheeks burn up as Otabek pulls him in too close for comfort and twirls him.  Otabek barely gives Yuri a chance to catch his breath,  let alone get his bearings straight after the twirl before he drops Yuri into a low dip.  

Yuri’s heart is pounding loudly, so loud that he swears that Otabek can hear it.  He must have cursed aloud too since Otabek breaks out into a bout of chuckles.

“Sorry.  Couldn’t resist it, especially when you looked so damn cocky.  Here.”  He pulls Yuri back up into an upright position one-handedly.  

“Do you still take dance lessons?” Yuri asks.  He doesn’t know why he asked; there are so many things about his current situation that he does not have a firm grasp on.  But he is enjoying it so that’s all that matters.

The bell rings, cutting through the silence between them and breaking whatever moment they were having.  Yuri sits back down on the rooftop floor, stretching out his legs.  His last two classes are English and Phys Ed, neither of which he likes.

“Hmm. Maybe there is some truth to the rumours.”

The fact that there is no venom in Otabek’s words infuriates Yuri even more.  “What gives  _ you _ the right to say that?  I’ve heard the rumours.  You ride around on your motorbike and pick fights.  There isn’t a single grade ten in our school who has not heard at least one alarming rumour about you.”

Otabek simply presses his lips into a thin line.  “You know better than to listen to that bullshit.  I never pick fights; rather the fights come to me.  I have a motorbike because when I was younger, I remodelled one with my older cousin who thought it was a great idea to give it to me for my birthday.  It  _ is  _ a rather convenient way to get around on it, especially when you want to visit Vancouver.”

He squats down next to Yuri, their shoulders brushing as Otabek makes himself comfortable, sitting down on the concrete ground.  

“I guess we have two choices here.  Skip the last two blocks with me or go down to Willow’s Beach.”

Yuri frowns.  “Willow’s Beach, eh?”

“It’s decent.  Not too crowded and not far from school.  I’ll give you a lift on my Harley.”

Yuri can’t fully suppress the smile.  He has never ridden on a motorcycle before.  And as far as he knows, Otabek is not the type to offer a ride to just anyone.

So what gives?  Well, he can figure that out later.  If he wants to keep Viktor away from the crown, he will need every help he can get.  He will gladly sell his soul and body along with it to achieve his goals.  Otabek may turn out to be the trump card that he needs to move along with his plans.

Because there is no point to life if he is going to play it safe.

“Thanks, I guess.  Let’s stop by Fairway Market first.  Gramps wanted me to buy ingredients for pirozhki and you, my friend, are in for a treat.” 

 

 

-

 

 

“Y-you didn’t have to follow me home,” Yuuri stutters.

His head is still reeling from what happened in school today and Viktor’s presence in front of his house is not helping at all.  His parents and sister are probably working at their family-owned restaurant so there is no risk to his family fawning over his new ‘friend’.  Yuuri wanted to hang out with Phichit after school for a much deserving de-stress, but Phichit had already made plans to go to the beach with Leo and Guang-hong, and Yuuri isn’t that fond of the beach. 

Viktor flashes a blinding smile.  “But I wanna.  It’s cool that you live in an old-fashioned home.  And with your whole family, too!”

“Don’t you live with you family?” Yuuri asks.

“Nope.  I’ve been living by myself since I started attending this school.  My parents figured it would be worthwhile to help me learn to be independent and whatnot.  I get a sweet bachelor pad and tonnes of allowance so I’m not complaining.”

“You’re still a student, though,” Yuuri mumbles.  “There’s nothing wrong with having your family there to support you and stuff.”

Viktor laughs.  He barges into Yuuri’s personal bubble for the umpteenth time today and ruffles up Yuuri’s hair.  “I know.  You sounded so concerned there.  It’s just how my family is and I’m used to it.”

Yuuri glances up, hand hovering over Viktor’s.  It’s a simple touch.  He has had his hair ruffled millions of times before be it by his family or his friends.  Yet it feels like a totally new experience when Viktor does it to him.

“I love that you can see the beach from here,” Viktor comments offhandedly.

“Huh?” Yuuri blurts out oh-so-eloquently.

“My family moved here from St. Petersburg when I was like four.  I don’t remember Russia much but I still remember how I loved to run along the shorelines as the seagulls flew over my head.  Seeing the beach and hearing the seagull’s cries reminds me of that.”

Speaking of, Yuuri can’t see any of his friends on the beach.  When they say that they are going to hang out on the beach, they usually mean the one by Yuuri’s house.  Very rarely do they go to the other ones since the other beaches don’t have the Katsuki Katsudon waiting for them by the time they come back.

Where the heck is Phichit anyway?

He hardly has the time to wonder about that when Viktor leans in closer and closer until his lips are on Yuuri’s and gently prying them apart.  Yuuri moans into Viktor’s mouth as Viktor expertly kisses Yuuri senseless.  

Yuuri hardly notices that VIktor has sneaked his hand up the back of Yuuri’s henley, fingertips fluttering along the curve of Yuuri’s spine.  It makes Yuuri shiver, but in a good way.

“Viktor,” he murmurs when Viktor finally gives him a break.  “Why do you do this?”

Viktor lifts Yuuri’s hand to his mouth and nips on the ring finger.  “Do what?”

“Ki-kiss me and stuff.  Is that not what lovers do?”

Viktor giggles.  “Silly Yuuri.  You don’t need love to do things like  _ this _ .”

With that, Viktor single-handedly pushes Yuuri down on the couch—why, oh why did Yuuri not sit down by the dining table.  He walked right into this, didn’t he—and gathers up both of Yuuri’s hands in one of his.

“So?” Viktor asks, one hand already down on Yuuri’s crotch.  “Shall we continue where we left off?”

Yuuri gulps.

He nods.

 

 

-

 

 

“I think your other boyfriend is looking for you.”

Phichit smiles apologetically as he flips over his phone to check who has texted him.  “It’s just Yuuri.  And how many times do I have to tell you that the only boyfriend that I have right now is you?”

Seung-gil scoffs.  He blows a stray strand of his ink black hair out of his eyes.  “And how many times do  _ I _ have to tell  _ you  _ that I really don’t care? That’s literally the definition of an open relationship.”

Phichit grins and nuzzles Seung-gil’s shoulder.  “Yeah, yeah.  I think Yuuri is going to be kept busy for a while.  According to my sources, Viktor has Yuuri in his clutches.”

“Did they also tell you that I am going to win this week’s Lotto Max?”  He dodges Phichit’s halfheartedly punch.  

“Very funny.  No, it’s true.  Now that Yuuri is the King and Viktor the target, he has made the wise choice to suck up to Yuuri.”  He scrunches up his nose in disgust, which is way more adorable than it should be.  “Hopefully not in a literal sense.”

“I wonder what Nikiforov is up to, though,” Seung-gil contemplates.  “He can’t be up to any good.  Not with his lust for power and limelight.  There is a reason why he’s been King for so long.”

Phichit hooks his chin over Seung-gil’s shoulder.  “Whatever.  If he tries to use Yuuri for his evil gains, I’m going to make sure that he knows the taste of utter defeat.  It’s only gossip but apparently some year ten punk got the better of our former King today.  That’s why he couldn’t get his grubby paws on the King card.”

Seung-gil rolls his eyes.  “You know better than to listen to the gossips.  But then again, you do have a way of gathering truthful information.”

“That I do. _Dis-moi, nous allons discuter de Viktor ou planifier une petite ménage à trois avec JJ?”_

Seung-gil smirks.   _“T’as pas besoin de demander.”_

**Author's Note:**

> 섹스에 환장하는 발정난 개새끼 같은게: what a sex-crazed son of a bitch (not a direct translation cuz trust me, this sounds better than the direct translation in English)
> 
> not sure how long this will be. 3 parts for sure, maybe an epilogue too


End file.
